


Breathe

by MetMask



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angel Waverly, Bad Parenting, Canon Compliant, Domestic Violence, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fate & Destiny, Guardian - Freeform, Minor Wynonna Earp/Doc Holliday, Nicole Haught Backstory, Police Officer Nicole Haught, Protective Wynonna Earp, Protectiveness, Rescue, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Waverly Earp Backstory, Wayhaught - Freeform, Young Nicole, Young Waverly, demon killing, mostly - Freeform, predeterminism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 19:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetMask/pseuds/MetMask
Summary: “I’m not just speaking a little bit special, I mean really, really special. You’re loyal, Nicole. You’re strong, and you’re brave. You’re a protector.” He slowly got out, walking around to open the car door for the child. He handed her a pair of boots, a size too big but good enough, and she slipped them on before following him with the blanket still held tight around her. “You, Nicole Haught, were chosen by the stars to protect one person… Only one, your entire life. Now, even if you forget all this I know your heart won’t so I’ll let you in on a little secret, she ain’t no ordinary person.” He rested his hand gently to the small girl’s shoulder.“She’s an angel.”orNicole escapes from the Shelterlands Massacre on the same night Michelle Gibson/Earp attempts to burn her infant daughter alive. Is it fate? Or does it kickstart a destiny that will join the pair forever in otherworldly ways, and shape both of their lives.





	Breathe

“Run.”

 

Aunty Joy’s words circled back and forth through her young mind as she sprinted as hard as she could through the tall pine forest, away from the roars and screams rising high into the inky black sky. When she had been laying in her sleeping bag, nestled comfortably between Aunty Joy and Uncle Peter, she had mused aloud that there weren’t as many stars as there usually are in the forest, that when she and her Daddy went camping, he would get her to count the stars until she fell asleep. He said it was ‘cause she’d never be able to get to all of ‘em. Uncle Peter had reached over and ruffled her fluffy auburn hair, his own spikey red beard tickling her cheek as he leant over to give her a gentle kiss goodnight.

 

“Sleep well, little one.” He had hummed into the relative silence of the night, everybody turning in early after some of the sound equipment packed it in, meaning no more music for the rest of the night. That disappointed her; she had been looking forward to listening to one of her Momma’s favourite bands play so she could tell her all about it when they got home, maybe even take a couple of pictures on the disposable camera she had tucked in her jacket pocket. However the tall man with the funny hat who was in charge of the festival did say that they would be playing tomorrow if the equipment got working, so Nicole was looking forward to it. Her Momma always said that ‘the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can wake up to a brand new day’, so she settled down, closed her eyes, and was quickly snoring away in her little warm cocoon.

 

She had been looking forward to Shelterlands all year since Aunty Joy handed her the envelope for her birthday last January. She had opened it excitedly and looked down at the tickets, raising them in her little hands for her Daddy to read it out and explain, before leaping around the family living room for a full five minutes singing loudly to some of her Momma’s favourite songs, being played from the CD player.

 

“Now you best be behavin’ for Aunt Joy, all right Nicky? I don’t want to hear about no tantrums or nothin’.” Her Momma had knelt in front of Nicole, fixing the warm purple beanie onto her head before straightening up her navy blue sweater and making sure her daughters' undershirt was tucked in all the way around. She stood to her full height and smoothed her hands over her own high waisted jeans before continuing to fiddle about with her daughters’ jacket and scarf. “And if Peter tells you to put on your extra long-johns, you do as he says. You know how those Purgatory winds can sneak up on ya’ if you aren’t thinkin’ fast enough, and…”

 

“Momma, Momma I got it… Momma!” Nicole laughed as she tried to squirm out of her Momma’s grasp, the tall woman bending again to this time merely wrap her arms tightly around her daughter, the child instinctually leaning into the cuddle to feel her Momma’s love and inhale the Spring Flower her Daddy bought for Momma at Christmas time. Her Momma let out a sigh and gently guided Nicole back, at arm's length, looking into the eyes that were the spitting image of her father.

 

“You listen here Nicole Haught; I love you. Now if you miss your Daddy or me, you just look up at the stars, all right? We’ll be looking at them too, waitin’ for you to come home.”

 

When she woke up again, curled into her sleeping bag tight, the stars were gone entirely.

 

It was not just the sudden coolness of the approaching northern winds that roused the young girl from her slumber, nor the thick wet fog that was suddenly swirling around the large camp, licking rudely at her flushed pink cheeks, but a gasp and a crack from somewhere above her. She peeked from her sleeping bag just in time to feel the thud as Uncle Peter was dropped to the ground; head wrenched back towards her while his body faced away, his eyes glassy as thick red blood began to drain from his nose. Nicole’s eyes went wide, and she froze, as still as the icecaps on the distant ranges, doing her best not to move, not to cry, not to do anything but be completely still. The figure who had dropped Peter to the ground slowly lowered, tilting his head back and forth at the petrified young girl, eyes burning a deep red and black before he smiles with teeth closer to a coyote’s fangs than those of a human man.

 

“You ain’t goin nowhere are ya, little one.” His voice reverberated and hissed, slipping down Nicole’s spine causing her to feel a kind of cold she has only ever heard about when her Daddy went hunting, the cold that comes on once the heart stops pumping. She couldn’t stop herself; she shook her head violently from side to side before shimmying deeper into the bag, terror in her young eyes as tears start to fall. They almost freeze before they drip down into the neck of her sweater, leaving a line of chill down her rosy cheeks. The figure slowly straightened himself out before stepping over the top of her and away, deeper into the camp. Before Nicole could think she felt herself get yanked suddenly out of the warmth, she was huddled in. Her captor grabbed at her coat and hauled her behind a tree a little way away, fighting against the surprisingly strong six-year-old that was genuinely fighting for her life.

 

“Nicky, baby.” Joy’s voice reached her and Nicole started to shake, scrambling to get out the words about what she had seen, what he had done to Peter, but the older woman shushed her with a hand stroking over her hair, one last comforting touch.

 

“Baby, you gotta run okay? You gotta run hard and fast as you can and not stop for nobody unless they’re a sheriff, okay? You get back to the cars, and you break a window, climb in, and someone will find you. I know they will.” Joy had tears running steadily down her cheeks as she took Nicole’s cheeks in her hands and brought her in to kiss at her forehead hard, the little girl letting out little sobs of argument as her arms were wrestled into her jacket arms. A crunching of sticks to the right made Joy visibly swallow before she gave Nicole a hard push, the child staggering away from her still verbalising her fears.

 

“Run!”

 

She wasn’t wearing nearly enough clothes for the frost in the air, only her red and black flannel pyjama pants and a matching button up shirt, some socks her Momma knitted specially for the festival, and the jacket Aunty Joy had thrust her into before her aunts screams joined those of the others coming from the camp. She felt something sharp slice her foot as she slipped on a stone, whimpering audibly but the words kept replaying like one of Daddy’s broken CD’s.

 

_Just keep running, don’t stop._

 

She started to whisper aloud to herself, tears drying as she focused as best she could on running, every time she slipped and fell she would scramble back to her feet and keep going.

 

_Gotta find them cars… Where were the cars?_

 

She looked back and forth when she came to the dip in the path, every direction swirling with the same fog from back at the camp, slipping into her mouth and down her throat, filling her lungs, choking her. She was wheezing, as though she was asthmatic, her throat feeling like it was slowly closing as she tried to force out tearful words. 

 

“Momma! Momma!” Nicole’s voice picked up a pitch as she sobbed, coughing and hacking hard to try and clear her lungs of the almost fluid fog. She couldn't breathe. “Momma I can’t see the stars. I’m scared, Momma!” She screamed before lowering her head once more, little fists tightening to try and keep herself calm. “Daddy…” Her voice was weaker when it called for her father or perhaps called on his bravery, knowing that even from directly in front of him, he sometimes wouldn’t hear her.

 

Nicole let out one more broken sob before raising her head and sprinting hard in any direction she could before there was no longer any ground below her. The fog cleared just as she took a final step, in an instant, and instead of being surrounded by trees and fog she was surrounded by nothing at all. Her eyes grew even wider and more panicked, and her stomach flipped as her small body dropped, skidding against the sharp rocks, slamming hard into protruding cliff growths, knocking the last of the air out of her before she was completely weightless. Her head fell back just enough as she fell off the cliffs, seeing the man from the festival, the man in the funny hat, sneering over the edge at her. His expression was visible through the black spots blurring in front of her eyes, only barely conscious of the impact of her young body splashing heavily into the Northern Ghost River. She felt the icy rush, she felt the current dragging her downstream, and her eyes finally slipped closed. She let out one last, slow breath into the water before breathing one in, her lungs filling with the fresh mountain water she had so readily drunk on so many occasions. Darkness consumed her, and she saw his sneer behind her eyes as she finally gave herself over.

 

* * *

 

 

“Daddy! Where’s Waverly!” Wynonna shouted as she sprinted around the house, only seven years old but still old enough to know that something was not right. Willa was sitting on the stairs playing with some carved wooden horses, refusing to help the middle Earp so matter how hard Wynonna tried to beg her. “Come on Willa, Waverly isn’t in her crib, and she should be! And where’s Mama?”

 

The oldest Earp quietly stood and jogged up the stairs, a slamming of a bedroom door quickly following before Wynonna ran outside, seeing her Daddy finally climbing out of his patrol car.

 

“Daddy, Mama and Waverly are gone, and you told me not to go into the barn without your permission…” She starts to ramble and Ward sighs, kneeling in front of his daughter.

 

“You get your hind-end back inside this instant Wynonna, it’s no night for you to be runnin’ about barefoot outside.” He rose to his feet and grabbed the child hard by the shoulders, turning and giving her a push back towards the house that had the dark haired girl frowning deeply.

 

“B-but Daddy…”

 

“Now I said, git!” His arm raised towards her and Wynonna ducked out of the way of the swinging hand, rushing back up the front steps of the homestead and inside the front door, tears forming in her eyes. She moved to crouch in front of the window, knees on the window seat, watching as Ward stomped his way slowly towards the barn door. Just as he was reaching to pull it, the door flung wide open, and Michelle Earp ran out, slamming immediately into Ward’s chest. From what Wynonna could see her eyes were wide and wild, full of fear for what she had done and now, as she was thrown hard to the dirt path, what Ward would do to her. Wynonna's eyes were torn away from the sight of her father raising a fist to her mother, as the barn almost seemed to begin to glow.

 

Her brows furrowed as she watched it, wondering when someone had replaced the old swinging lamp’s bulb with something quite that bright. Somewhere, sounding far away, she could hear the start of her baby sister crying, and Wynonna stood, head turning from side to side before realisation struck her. Wynonna burst from the homestead doors just in time for the hay inside the barn to light, the entire building exploding into flames and Wynonna screamed. “Daddy! Daddy, Waverly!” She gasped out, knees shaking before giving out underneath herself, Ward’s eyes going wide as he looked between Wynonna and the now roaring flames of the homestead barn. Michelle was laying flat on the ground, shaking her head and muttering to herself before Ward lifted her violently by the throat, picking her up to carry her to the patrol car, throwing her in the back seat then locking the doors.

 

“Wave… Waverly…” Wynonna continued to sob as she sat in a curled up ball on the front stoop, seeing Deputy Sherriff Nedley’s car approaching, lights and siren filling the middle Earp’s senses.

 

* * *

 

Nicole was choking, gagging on the water that bubbled up violently from her lungs, her face pressed into something soft and warm. Her eyes were unfocused and blurry, mouth hanging open awkwardly as warm-water ran out of her throat to form a puddle on the black, rubber mats. She didn’t feel the motion at first, it took a while for her to be able to separate it from the spinning in her head, before she slowly pushed herself up, enough to look out the window over the shifting landscape.

 

“Thought it's ‘bout time you’d be wakin’ up.” A low voice spoke calmly in front of her, her head turning so she could look at the mess of grey hair topped with a trucker hat, facing forward as he steered the car down the dark road.

 

“Y-you’re not my Daddy…” She murmured softly, knees slowly pulling up to her chest, throat raw and voice rough as it comes out, every single part of her body aching. She felt like a small animal that had been caught in a washing machine, tossed and bundled around before being pulled out, drowned, disoriented and dishevelled.

 

“No, I am indeed not he, Nicole Haught. You can call me Juan Carlos.” His voice was kind, like her teacher back at school. Mister Lake always smelled like what Daddy drinks of Friday afternoons, Bourbon, but he tells great stories and calls Nicole clever when she can count past one hundred.

 

“Juan Carlos, my Aunty told me not to stop running unless I met the Sherriff…” Her voice got a little stronger as she sat back in the seat, moving her hands slowly over her body, checking herself as her Daddy taught her. She was still wearing her Momma’s knitted socks, although the blue wool was more a dark green now, her pyjamas were ever so slightly damp and but her jacket was off and laying on the car seat beside her. She was wrapped in a warm wool blanket that smelt like fire and motor oil, but the warmth it gave her was more important than any other sense.

 

“Well, I ain’t no Sherriff neither. However, I am going to tell you something extremely important, Nicole. Something you’re not able to tell anyone. Gosh, something you may not even remember after tonight.” The car came to a rolling stop on a darkened road, and the man in the front seat slowly turned around so he could look at the young girl he had fished from the icy clutches of the Ghost River. “You, Nicole Haught, are special.” His smile was kind, and the girl slowly nodded her head at his words. Her Momma often told her she was special, smarter than the other kids, faster than all of the boys in her grade.

 

“I’m not just speaking a little bit special, I mean really, really special. You’re loyal, Nicole. You’re strong, and you’re brave. You’re a protector.” He slowly got out, walking around to open the car door for the child. He handed her a pair of boots, a size too big but good enough, and she slipped them on before following him with the blanket still held tight around her. “You, Nicole Haught, were chosen by the stars to protect one person… Only one, your entire life. Now, even if you forget all this I know your heart won’t so I’ll let you in on a little secret, she ain’t no ordinary person.” He rested his hand gently to the small girl’s shoulder, turning her, so she was facing the backside of what looked to be a large building.

 

“She’s an angel.” The building slowly began to glow, and Nicole’s eyes went wide seeing how it lit with oranges and red. Nicole turned to face Juan Carlos with wide eyes before suddenly there was a loud whooshing noise, like a jet taking off, and the entire building, which briefly identified as a barn caught alight with raging flames. Her head pounded as she started to feel the heat on her cheeks, but her ears instantly pricked up at the sound of a baby wailing frantically.

 

“Is that her, sir?” She gripped at his hand with furious determination in her eyes, and the tall man slowly nodded his head, looking directly at the back of the barn as a panel burned loose.

 

“She’s going to need her guardian, now and in the future.” He murmured simply as the small girls' shoulders instinctually straightened, and she pulled the blanket up over her messy, shoulder-length red hair. If she had bothered to look up, she would see she suddenly stood alone at the back of the Earp homestead, her jacket at her feet. This was her choice. She could turn and run away, find an adult like any kid her age would, or she could trust the strange man who can only guess saved her life. For some reason, it didn't take much thought; her heart knew exactly what she was going to do the moment she heard the baby's distraught cries. She swallowed thickly before grabbing her coat and yanking it on, adjusting the blanket over her face before running full speed into the burning barn.

 

She gasped as heat enveloped her, burning at her hands and her eyes as she pushed herself deeper and deeper, struggling to hear the cries between the roars of flames and screams from somewhere outside. Everything was red and white, so hot she felt like she could melt into a puddle but her eyes never stopped scanning, looking desperately for the child she could still hear, alive. She met a wall of flame that rose and licked the rafters, and in her heart, she knew her duty was beyond the wall. She ran at it once and groaned as she drove her shoulder against the burning hay bales, loose hay on fire raining down like literal hellfire before she tried another portion of the blockade. She shoved aside a large stack of palettes, the crashing causing a brief gap to appear which she could leap through before she finally saw her.

 

A baby, no more than one or two lay swaddled tightly and cradled in a horse-feeding trough, and Nicole let out a shaking breath. The blanket she had been holding over her mouth dropped as she quickly lifted the infant, wrapping her in the seemingly fireproof blanket so Nicole could run as best she could back through the flames. Without the protection of the rug, Nicole felt the smoke and ash rushing into her lungs, her head growing heavy with it once more as she coughed and hacked, miraculously finding her way to the makeshift doorway which had exploded out the back of the barn. She stumbled into the fresh night air, eyes once again blurry as she moved to lay the infant down in the grass before she slumped over, rolling onto her side and once more felt herself beginning to lose consciousness. Arms slipped underneath her just as she was fading, and the same gravelly, kind voice as before returned.

 

“Destiny chose well.”

 

* * *

 

Wynonna watched with a broken heart as her father yelled at Deputy Sherriff Nedley to arrest Michelle, tears staining her sooty cheeks from when she had rushed towards the burning barn, and the moustachioed man had scooped her up, hugging onto her securely while Ward simply shook his head.

 

“N-Nedley… Waverly is in there I know she is…” Wynonna sobbed as the man carried the lithe girl back up onto the front porch, kneeling down to nod at her.

 

“I’ll go see if I can get in anywhere to find her, all right? Now you just stay put.” He rubbed her shoulder reassuringly before rising and started to move around the barn, her father shaking his head disapprovingly once more at his Deputy for humouring Wynonna.

 

It was only a few minutes later than the heavy-set man came jogging around from the back of the barn with wide, shocked eyes, carrying a bundle wrapped tightly in a large forest green blanket up to Ward. Wynonna couldn’t make out his words, but Ward simply nodded, pointing Nedley back to Wynonna who was on her feet, gripping desperately onto the stair railing.

 

“Look who I found in the grass out back.” He attempted a smile as he brought the infant over to Wynonna who instantly extended her arms to hold her little sister, cradling her close. Moving the blanket aside she could see the black coal and soot coating her little sisters' small body, and she could feel the residual heat of the blanket, feeling where were parts of it had caught alight and burnt out. “Now you get her cleaned up, and to bed, we’ll handle everything out here. Goodnight Wynonna.” Nedley tipped his Stetson at the small girl who gave him a quiet nod before turning on her heel to walk inside.

 

“I got you, baby girl.” She whispered reassuringly to her little sister, Mama sometimes using the name for Waverly and Wynonna especially thought it fit. She slowly walked into the bathroom and began to run some cool water, wanting to make sure any burns Waverly’s sensitive young skin had gotten were soothed, but when she dropped the blanket her head tilted a little to the side.

 

“Who’s blanket is that?”

 

* * *

 

Nicole awoke, alone, on the riverbank within view of the parked cars from the festival. Her head was blurry, memories from last night fogged and confused, her clothes stinking of smoke and fire. Her brows knitted tightly when she looked over in the direction of where she knew Shelterlands was meant to be taking place, praying that all the glimpses of memories were nothing but dreams, but instead a sizeable foreboding plume of smoke was whipping up through the trees. She was too tired to mourn, too tired to be scared, even too tired to feel the pain throughout her young body, or the too large shoes that still covered her otherwise frostbitten feet. She slowly stepped on tired legs towards Uncle Peter’s old maroon Ford Falcon, picked up a heavy stone before smashing it through the window. Glass dusted out and over her arm, but she didn’t care, the soft leather seats inside calling to her like a sirens song. She reached in and pulled the door handle, the pop of the door a welcome sound, so she could then curl herself up securely on the front seat.

 

She was too tired to notice the multiple large black SUV’s that weren’t there when she and her chaperone’s had arrived a few days ago, her body needing to recover from all it had been through over the course of one single night. Her foot throbbed, eyes burned even behind closed lids, but strangely enough despite the fatigue, she didn’t feel weak. For some reason, a reason she couldn’t remember, she felt really, really strong.

**Author's Note:**

> I have made the ridiculous choice to begin another story! Hooray! If you haven't checked out my other works and feel like being slightly bummed out (but with an imminent happy ending), I recommend 'In A Handful of Dust', a Clexa story in which the central characters are buried alive and come together out of both necessity, and perhaps divine intervention. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy the start of what I believe will be a pretty massive story! I might end up picking someone up to co-write with me but until then, you can expect my usual update schedule which is, for anyone new here, once every time I feel like writing something. It's not that I want my updates to be so sporadic, but I am not awesome with remaining motivated. That being said I will try super hard with this! 
> 
> Anyway! Comments are great so please, do them! Let me know all ya thoughts, it really helps me to write! I've written eight thousand words off the back of a comment today so they really do motivate me! 
> 
> Thanks!


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